Grimm
by Ariyah's rider
Summary: She was a defiant stain on her house and on her family name, a blood traitor of the highest order. Morwen Grimm is the newest Slytherin student, and she's already busy gathering attention, and not the good kind. Once at Hogwarts, Morwen finds herself making friends with those at the very center of the great conflict of her age, and begins fighting right alongside them. AU & OC


_(Begins just after the first attack of Slytherin's Monster in __Chamber of Secrets__, where Mrs. Norris is petrified.)_

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_**Grimm**_

"_There are many who don't wish to sleep for fear of nightmares. Sadly, there are many who don't wish to wake for the same fear."_

_**Prologue: The Grimm Girl**_

Harry Potter had long since decided against paying much attention in potions class. Conversing with Ron was always much more fun, even if Snape was particularly harsh whenever he caught students talking in his class. After all, the only real way to spite a teacher was to slack off in his class, and just barely get by. Not that Snape cared if Harry was failing. In fact he'd probably be more upset if Harry was actually doing _well_ in potions.

That day would also be the day hell froze over and pigs flew.

Of course, the Potions Master's remarks the day before accusing him of doing something untoward to Mrs. Norris were not out of his mind, so Harry was more than content to completely put the Professor and his class well out mind. Honestly, did Snape have to accuse Harry of _everything_ that went wrong in the castle? It wasn't as though he went looking for these things to happen, they just sort of…happened. Around him, most of time. It was just as inconvenient to Harry as it was to everyone else. _Especially _with the likes of Lockhart running around trying to be important and make Harry his little friend.

It was enough to drive anyone mad.

He wouldn't be surprised if Snape saw fit to keep him back today for some arbitrary thing he dreamt up, just to punish him for last night's events.

Speaking of the old Slytherin Bat, the Potion's Master swept into the room. Normally Harry would pay no attention to the dramatic entrance of his professor, and today would be no different, except for what, or rather who, was following him in.

She looked a little older than the average second year, and taller, though not bony or twig like. Going by the crest on her robes and the fact he'd not seen her before now, she was in Slytherin house. She stood tall and confident, not really minding the fact that all eyes were on her; in fact she drank it in. She did not have a shy look about her, her eyes almost seeming to say _come at me_. Her eyes themselves were a fierce amber gold color, and in Harry's opinion, remarkably wolf-like. They seemed to almost be on fire, and contrasted with her deep, dark purple hair that was a shock of color on her pale face. It draped on either side of her face in pin-straight strands, and the rest was pulled into a thin ponytail. But what surprised Harry the most about her, and indeed the whole class, was the jagged and angry scar across the center of her face. It looked red and angry, as if it had only just healed, and the bandages had just been removed from it. Unlike most people in the room, who were merely staring at the slash mark on her face, trailing from the center of her forehead, across her nose and under her left eye, Harry was more surprised by the fact she did not even try to hide it. In fact she seemed to be almost proud of it, unlike Harry himself who tried to hide his curse mark at any and all times.

"Who's that?" Ron whispered next to him, both boys' eyes tracing the girl across the room.

"Dunno. Maybe she's new?" Harry offered in reply to his best friend. Snape made it to the front of the class, and the girl did as well, standing tall in front of the potions class with the professor.

"This is your newest classmate, Miss Morwen Grimm." Beside Harry, Ron gasped harshly, and upon looking at his friend, Harry found that he'd turned several shades whiter, and his eyes had grown huge.

"What is it?"

"She's a…a…_Grimm_."

"Indeed she is, Mr. Weasley." Snape cut in harshly, making both boys jump. There was a humored smile on the Grimm girl's face, though it was not vindictive. She just thought the situation was funny. _"Grimm…"_ Snape growled, and she jumped a little, smiling at herself as she walked to the Slytherin side of the room, plopping down on the end of the benches.

"Miss Grimm is a transfer from Durmstrang, and I expect you to show her due respect of a classmate. That means _not _staring at her, Mr. Weasley." Harry felt his anger flare at Snape. He'd never mentioned anything about everyone staring at Harry, but then he probably expected Harry to like the attention.

Morwen was whispering something under her breath, and the student next to her looked scandalized. Snape looked at her, narrowing his eyes appraisingly.

"Miss Grimm?" She looked up at the bat-like professor, this time a harsh smirk was plastered on her face.

"Yes sir?" She asked, not even bothering to put a sweet edge of her voice. Harry was actually beginning to like this Slytherin. "Do you need something sir?" Snape just narrowed his eyes and stalked away, beginning to yammer on about the potion they would be doing in class

"A _Grimm_." Ron whispered to Harry. "She…she could be it. The one who opened the Chamber."

"Don't be foolish Ron, she only just got here." Hermione chastised. Ron shook his head, eyes wide.

"You're a muggle-born and Harry was raised by muggles so you don't know. The Grimms…they are one of the oldest and darkest families in the wizarding world. Everyone's scared of them, even the Malfoys! They're vicious, Harry. Death Eaters, all of them!"

"Why's her hair purple?" Harry wondered aloud, and Ron seemed about ready to snap again, when a voice broke through the class.

"Professor Snape sir, how are we supposed to complete this potion, the time it needs is-"

"Grimm! I do not have time for inane questions!" Snape snapped from the front of the room. He was glaring at Morwen yet again, ignoring the Gryffindor trio in favor of her. Morwen screwed up her face into a scowl, then rolled her eyes.

"Yes sir." Again, she did not seem to mean those words, even if she said them. They were almost patronizing. Snape gave her his best glare and went back to explaining the potion the class would be working on. He finished writing the instructions and then set the class to it. Ron was working with Harry, both trying to get the potion right, and for once actually succeeding to a degree. Snape mumbled something disapproving as he passed, but it was less than the usual sneer and scorn, so Harry and Ron found it cause to share a triumphant high five.

"Need a pure-blood to get your potion right, Potter?" It was Draco of course. Malfoy could not just leave well enough alone for a single day, could he? "Weasley's not even a proper pure-blood."

"His blood is just as red as yours, Malfoy. Just as good too." Everyone's heads snapped up, and over to the purple haired witch on the end of the Slytherin table. She was still focused upon her caldron, as if nothing hat happened, but even in the short class her voice had become recognizable. The idea that a Slytherin, and – to the pure-bloods – a Grimm no less, was defending a blood traitor and half-blood was entirely foreign.

Harry was waiting for pigs to fly or Snape to start singing and dancing.

"His mother was a filthy Mudblood!" Draco yelled

What happened next was and even greater shock to the class. Slytherins tended to present a united front, they rarely if ever bickered in front of the school. The second years all followed Malfoy as if he was Merlin himself. Slytherins never fought other Slytherins.

So it was a shock when Morwen stood up, gold eyes flashing and burning like fiendfyre, pointed her wand at Malfoy and roared _"DON'T YOU EVER USE THAT WORD!"_

Even Snape was taken aback by the turn of events, and Draco had turned several shades lighter. The class was dead silent, looks of astonishment and disbelief on every single student's face, and Morwen was shaking with rage. Harry looked aghast, not even Ron had this much of a reaction, and he'd tried to hex Malfoy.

"Grimm!" Snape's voice sounded from the front of the room. "Put your wand away and _sit down!_" He snarled. For a second, Morwen looked as if she wasn't going to comply, but then, slowly and still shaking with anger, she pocketed her wand and sat down, eyes several shades darker and stormy. "I will see you after class." Harry looked to Draco, expecting him to sneer in triumph, but he still looked too terrified to gloat.

Harry had not been aware that a twelve-year-old girl could be quite so terrifying. But at the moment, Snape seemed tame in comparison to the girl next to him.

Morwen was looking her teacher in the eye, unafraid of what was to come. She had done the right thing, she knew she had. She hated the word "mudblood" with a special passion, for she so often heard it thrown about in her house, her sisters calling her "no better than a mudblood" or saying she was "beneath those magic thieving mudbloods". The word had, for her, come to represent all she hated about her family, all she hated about Durmstrang, all she hated about the world. She did not care what Snape did to her.

She had done the right thing.

"Miss Grimm," Her Head of House began, being remarkably calm and controlled. He could have almost sounded understanding, almost. "You cannot threaten someone simply because they say something you do not like."

"Says who?" The purple haired witch snapped.

"I do." Snape countered, and Morwen jerked her head away, scowling. "The Headmaster told me of the events of your time at Durmstrang-"

"So?" Morwen growled, not looking at her teacher.

"Hogwarts is not Durmstrang. We do not look well upon the hexing of classmates, or threatening them. Professors will deal with punishments, not you."

"But you didn't punish Malfoy. And you're not going to." Morwen looked back now, gold eyes flashing accusatorially. "Are you?"

"I will deal with Mr. Malfoy as I see fit."

"You're just like the professors and Durmstrang." Morwen mumbled under her breath, and Snape did not hear it.

"If you continue this behavior I will have to send you to the Headmaster." Snape said, voice low as if this would threaten her. Morwen seemed utterly unfazed.

"I don't care what you do to me." She said quietly. "Chances are I've had worse."

"If you cannot abide by our rules, you will be sent home." A flash of fear passed through Morwen's eyes, and her gaze turned to the ground. "Do you understand?"

"Yes." Her voice was barely a whisper, but she did not speak again.

"You may go. I expect better behavior from now on." Morwen did not respond, merely picked up her things and silently left the classroom.

She walked slowly; she did not have another class for a little while, she could rest a bit. The threat of going home was the only thing suitable to instill fear in her, she wondered if Snape knew just how much fear it caused though. Being a "blood traitor" in a dark family like the Grimm family… it was one of the most dangerous livings in the world.

The Grimm family was famous for their tendencies, their leanings. They were akin to the Blacks and Malfoys, though Morwen seemed to recall one of her sisters saying that they made even those purebloods a little nervous. To the Grimms, Dark Arts were a way of life, in more ways than one. They were the only remaining family of Parselmouths in the wizarding world. With Slytherin's line gone, only they remained.

The Parselmouth in each generation held the very important position of carrying on the family line and name; they were the heir, regardless of age, order of birth, or gender. Typically, after the Parselmouth of the generation was born, the family stopped having children, so the heir of the family would be clear.

Morwen was convinced this was the only reason she was still breathing. Because she was the heir. She was the Parselmouth of her generation. As much as her father and mother hated her and her ideals, they were loath to kill off the family line and Parselmouth lineage.

So Morwen lived on, but only barely. Eventually, she knew, their aversion to killing the family Parselmouth would be outweighed by the desire to keep the line pure.

And then Morwen would die.

Because her parents had learned long ago that she would not be changed. Upon discovering she was the Parselmouth, they had given her a black snake named Themba. She still had the snake to this day, it was here with her at Hogwarts. It had been a struggle getting Dumbledore to let her to bring Themba, but with sufficient begging she'd gotten her fervent wish. Themba was a mere hatchling when Morwen got her, and the snake had grown as Morwen's stalwart defender, not "dark" like both she and Morwen were expected to be.

When her father had discovered this, he had taken to trying to cast the imperious curse on his daughter. Morwen threw it off, each time, without fail. Then he had resorted to trying to beat it out of her, and Morwen's mother ripped her psyche to shreds every chance she got. Life in the Grimm house was a waking hell, a living nightmare.

Morwen had long since run out of adjectives to describe the terrors of her home life. She knew that if she could just ignore her family, they might leave her be. But she'd never been able to do that. She could not just listen while they lauded Voldemort and cursed muggles and muggle-borns. It was not in her nature, and so she got in trouble.

So going home… it was not an option.

She would behave at least enough to be allowed to stay. She _had_ to stay. This was her last chance at making it out alive.

She was not going to screw this up.

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**_I'm trying out the Harry Potter fandom, and this is my first crack at it. Depending on how well this is received, I'll choose whether or not to post up the other chapters I have ready for this story._**

**_Constructive criticism would be much appreciated. _**


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